Temptations and Artifacts
by NeverStopThinking
Summary: A break in and missing scroll forces Myka and Pete to team up with a Warehouse 3 agent to catch a master thief before more artifacts disappear from the Detroit Classical Museum. Slight AU, no Myka/Pete. Set roughly two years after series finale.
1. Night at the Museum

I make no claim with the latin and greek, but I have tried to be as accurate as possible. The greek may not be ancient greek. Blame the translator for any errors.

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Viva pulled the puffy sealed short cloak tighter around her lean frame. This was colder than Germaniae. Even with the combination of that hooded pull over garment and long sleeved shirt under the cloak, it proved barely enough to fend off the freezing gusts. However, these pathetic robbers didn't supply furs. What that even possible... in this weather? This coat could be as warm as furs but had clothing changed that much? She dug in her pocket for paper this city state or empire or kingdom used for money. This could be worth an aureus or an as. She had no way of knowing.

"Mercury, Guide me."

The Julius Caeser's Map didn't help. That glowing dot marking her exactly location failed to appear. So she was not in his time's Roman Empire. Even the uncharted areas proved unmarked. This could just be a reality constructed by a temptation or a dream. 10 years of official service and both ideas would not surprise her. A smile crawled on her face as she remembered her dead partner and their debates. Having him would so useful right now. Two agents were always better than one. One to save the other's ass and to have the favor returned a month later.

Beta rubbed across her legs, returning her to this possibly fabricated reality. Viva cast on her eyes on the gray hound. I know. I'm freezing, too. What turned out to be a clumsy mark of male citizen with help of a few temptations became something useful. The crisp snow colored wool matched her fawn fur perfectly. She valued Beta more than a foolish woolen wrap. Her dog blended into the cursed chilling powder. She laughed. Either way, they needed to find an inn… her stomach growled …and a meal.

The warehouse agent is Viva kicked in; her eyes scanning for an inn or tavern nearby. They freeze on another one of these horseless chariots or carts. Problem for tomorrow. She needed to orientation herself to this place… and its weapons. That flash from the black handheld gamma shaped weapon still unnerved. Then she would find that thief.

However in the sea of star blocking light, this search sensed futile. Even with the coin, the cultural symbols anyone raised or versed in this culture could decode at a glance proved confounding to her, like a code she lacked the key for. Viva's eyes settled on a lit building stocked with shelves of painted crates, handleless round vases and bags. "Steven's Kwik Mart." She muttered to herself. Let it be warm. Let it be warm. Her glance settled on the limited jewels in the blanket of darkness. Let her return to Marcus, Gnaea, Furittus, Gnaeus, Pater... the warehouse. Time to break this reality... if it is false.

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"So, Mykes, looks like we are in a night at the museum." Pete joked as Myka stepped out into the piercing breezes migrated through their coats.

She could not summon the humor to laugh, not with the coffee currently straining her clothes. "Funny, Pete. You'll need to clean up the coffee." His partner yelled, anger hanging in her voice like venom as she pulled her sunglasses to protect against the blinding rays of the reflected sun of the snow. The man could have the fine motor of a three year.

"You don't need to become all cobra-y over it. I didn't mean to spill it... all over your clothes." The male agent countered. Myka turned and stared at him. Her glare cutting through the tinted glass. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Twice. Fine. Next time… "

The female agent turned and marched toward the museum. "Hold on to the cup…" She paused, taking a breath to contain her anger. "Let's just focus on the artifact." She marched toward the heated museum.

Silence dominated the chilling air, only broken the hum of the wind. Pete opened the door for his partner. A guard studied them but quick flash of the Secret service badge earned a nod. "I am Agent Bering. This is Agent Lattimer. We are here about the break in."

"I'll bring to Doctor Lewis." The guard grunted.

Walls lined by ancient marble nudes missing limbs or heads and busts of emperors with their realistic details worn away by time. Joining them were tablets, parts of still vibrant mosaics, and engraved chucks of walls only readable to scholars, or to a limited extent her. Occasionally a glass display case broke the scarlet carpet strait. Pete largely kept his eyes straight from roman and greek statues. Myka laughed faintly to herself. She loved Pete but he could do that?

The warehouse agents lead to a back office adjunct to the storage room. The guard pointed and knocked before leaving. "Doctor Lewis. This is the Secret Service. They are here to help with break in." Pete nodded.

"Wait a moment." A voice cried from behind the door. Seconds later, the door opened, revealing a giant of a man. Six feet based on the door. Tanned skin. Scar on left cheek. "Thank you for going. What do you need to see or have me do?" Glee danced in his tone. He possibility was pleased to have any help outside of the Detroit's limited resources.

"Could you show us how the burglars broke in?" Myka intrigued.

The doctor shut door to the clamped office and cityscapes of papers on his desk. "Okay." He led them to storage room. Dust hang in the air, gliding in the fluorescent light like the gold, bronze or silver jewelry resting on the shelves. The thieve broke thought here and took as they went. We are making a list of what is missing. So further we noticed several necklaces were stolen. Then, they made their way to the glass case." A shattered glass case appeared in the distance. A lead box on its side. "After that security came, they flee. One of the guards was found in next hallway. He is still in the hospital."

Myka pulled the purple gloves and picked the box. "It is in Greek." Her eyes narrowed as she studied the engraving. Greek. She didn't know greek.

"Possessor of Moments." The PhD clarified.

"Do you know what was in here?" The Warehouse agent intrigued, lowering the box back on the sea of carpet. Dust coated the inside of the lead box, expect for rectangle shaped area.

"I don't know. We believe a scroll but no one has been able to open it." Lewis explained.

Pete looked at the box. "Whatever it was it had to be interesting." Myka locked eyes with her partner. He nodded. A vibe. Finding this artifact just became easier.

Once they retreated in the car, the regent's son opened his Farnsworth. Claudia's black and white face appeared on the screen. "Hey, Claudia."

"Pete turn down your volume." She groaned, rubbing her temple. "How is it going over there?" She forced out.

"Are you okay?" Myka asked.

The new caretaker moaned, resting her heads in her hand. "Yeah. This whole warehouse upload is still giving me this massive migraine. It really picked up last night. Sleep was-"

"-It has been like that for the last two weeks." Pete stated. "You should really have Valeria look at you."

"Mrs. Frederick said it took three weeks." She pinched her temples. "Did you find any good leads?"

"Yeah. Could you look up any artifact with the inscription of Κάτοχος του στιγμές. The curator stated it meant 'Possessor of Moments' in greek?" Myka asked. Typing filled background. "Also, Claudia we could you see what hospital the injured guard is at?" She didn't want to cause discomfort to her friend but she looked up for it.

The warehouse caretaker paused. "That sounds familiar… warehouse senses." Pete smiled. "Mercy Hospital. The details will on the way. I'll contact you guys where I find it. Caretaker out." Black devouring the gray and white of the screen.

Pete picked up the GPS.

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By the gods, how long have she been sealed that playwright's scroll? She expected to possibly dead in her service, but not be transported into an iced over Tartarus. If she died, maybe the Plains of Elysium, if the circumstances justified it, however at least Plain of Asphodels – the warm Plains of Asphodels. Viva, enough on that. Still, it was summer when you sealed in the scroll and you made to be dropped in this... enough. Reorient yourself. Detroit public library.

The Warehouse 3 shut the dense door, before more warmth escaped the room, as she entered into the fury's cutting wind of Germanuis, or Detroit, Michigan, in the United States of America in the year of 2016, February 2th. Last night she collapsed when the black box's light read three in the morning. Beta's muted snoozing announced her own collapse before an one appeared. Just based on the weather, part of her almost wanted to give her coin to Charon.

Apparently sixty dollars a night could get you a clean bed, private bed and bath complete with indoor plumbing, and a box that presented moving images. Better yet, it provided heating. Still, there went 60 out her 450 dollar reserve. Further eating away at her limited resources were the purchase of insulating clothes and food – for both of them. Her tunic could count as a shirt, if it could blend in. Viva didn't need much but two sets would be sufficient.

The start-up funds would last longer if she didn't need not to stay in an inn, or hotel was it, however the constant chill conspired against her in the reasonable idea. Knowing the fates, the warehouse would find her. Still the sooner, the better. Two more nights and the warehouse 3 agent would need to relocate.

Viva, focus on the situation. His skill could not be dispersed. That thief had managed to survive the tomb passage, a feat four agents could not pull off with previous knowledge. He needed to pay for what he stole thought. That brought the need for cultural knowledge to aid the hunt. Her eyes settled on the paper with directions to the library.

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"Mr. Saint Pierrce, did anything unusual in the break in?" Myka begin, casting her eyes on the butterfly bandage and black eye.

The bruised guard gruned as he pulled himself in a sitting position, descapilabilty fighting a wrise. "You will not believe me. The doctors think it is the concussion but it's not." He insisted. Convince hanging in his voice. "I swear."

"Believe me we are far more open minded with the police on this stuff." Pete laughed. Myka nodded, open minded could description their minds on his experience.

The guard gathered his breath. "I was making my rounds when I heard the alarm go off." He paused. "When I entered the hallway, I smelt… fudge. Like that was fudge factory in room, not just a batch of it. Then the aroma evapored like then… anyway, there was four people and a dog. Two wore tunics and togas. One of them, a woman, with the dog, she had a dagger, like that… roman dagger knife. The kind legionaries used. Then there was a flash of light, then black but hear a crowd cheering. I'll sorry. That is all. Wait, hmm, I woke in the storage room but I didn't get knocked then."

Myka and Pete glanced at each other. Pete answered. "What did the others look like? The modern ones."

"Dark, current clothes. They were in shock, thought." He land his head in his hands.

"The other two?" Myka intrigued. This was definitely an artifact. The fudge and the flash of light. They need know who the other two were. They could escaped from the scroll. Weirder events had happen.

The man paused and twisted his face as he dug for his thoughts. "The woman, hazel eyes, light olive skin, average height, dark mid-shoulder length hair and the guy, hmm, olive, darker hair, brown eyes, a little taller. Also, lean gray dog. The ones that race, god—"

"-Gray hound." Pete added.

"Sounds right." He agreed.

A nurse walked into the bleach white hospital room. "It is time for his medicine." She simply stated but firmly.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Willson." Myka stated. Pete nodded. The hamster dance broke out from his pocket. A beeping emerged from her's.

Promptly they leave the room. Myka leaned the beige wall spanning the hallway as sterile air invaded her senses. Artie's face filled the bicolor screen. "Where is Pete?" he asked.

"On the phone." She stated.

The warehouse manager nodded. "I have lead about the inscription."

"Pete." The warehouse agent called to her partner. He nodded no, pulling the phone closer to his ear. "I'll tell him."

"Alright. The inscription from container for the Playwright's Scroll." He explained, glee dancing in his voice like he just discovered a new artifact. "That was a playwright wanted to capture a moment perfectly. He ended up sealing all the actors in the production."

Myka raised her eyebrow. "Artie, why you do sound so excited?" They needed to find an artifact like that soon. He should not be happy about it.

"Warehouse 3 went looking for it and one of their agents went missing on the search and where she and the thief stood, stood a company of greek actors." He continued.

Claudia's voice added, thought the source remained unseen. "Just let him finish. He turned into a nerd at comic con when I tell him of the inscription."

"Hey, that is…" The Russian attempted countered "…kinda accurate actually. Anyway, there is a chance to have an agent who can calm artifacts with a touch."

"Wait? That is possible?" Myka intrigued.

"Well, a touch may be exaggeration but her blood could 'calm' temptations, as artifacts were known then." The senior agent clarified.

That sounded familiar. The female agent searched her mind for the name matching the fact. "Viva Gallia Habita Sedatio."

"Yes." Artie replied, acting like he should be should surprised.

"You mentioned a thief." Myka stated. That could possibly explain Claudia's headache.

"Yeah. Spurius Vergina Figulus. He was a master thief. He managed to break into Warehouse 3 and get away with some artifacts." The warehouse manager stated. Myka twisted her face in confusion. "There was a guard working with him."

"Guard?" The female warehouse twisted her face further.

The warehouse manager continued. "Warehouse 3 used state slaves to guard it."

Pete walked over to her. "Mykes, some of the stolen… artifacts from the museum was discovered, along with a body." He looked at her. She took a moments to process both situations. "Mykes. Mykes. What is it?"

"I can fill you in on the car ride." Myka stated, confusion conquering her even tone. She seen more unusual event. "Everything else, Artie?"

"No. Just be aware." The Russian cautioned.

The warehouse 13 agent closed the Farnsworth. "I contact you when there is more."


	2. Warehouse Constants

I delayed on posting this because the slavery section. I needed to balance history, ancient philosophy, and modern beliefs. Roman had a huge slave population. Stoics stated anyone as the same and slaves needed to be treated nicely. I combined the philosophy with a more liberal/modern beliefs. Sent me a private message if you need the issue cleared up. Be polite in these messages.

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Snow crushed under Viva's feet as a paper bag weighted down her right arm. How could 70 dollars be so light? The thirty dollars of food from the indoor, heated market hanging from her other arm weighed more. However, she now had other clothes that she liked. Cloth had to be cheaper and how there could be fruit in the fury's chill. Part of her wanted to declare this a dream but what could she base this on? The only other alternative would make her roughly two thousand year old chronically. Go with what is most likely true.

So two thousand years it was. Her visit to the library supported it. Rome ended after divided into east and west. The Rome she knew – it could have ended earlier if she counted the chaos. That grieving spanned a total of two thoughts before she fully invested her the passage of the United States of America.

Apparently, the representative democracy was a superpower since 1918 that existed on the other end of the world, a sea separated for the land her home once controlled. It was ruled a "president" elected by an electoral college who should vote with accordions to the state election every four years, called a term, the law limited the number of terms to two. The President headed the executive branch, one of three branch. Judicial interrupted the law and legislative created the laws. Viva lost track of time gaining a fundament understanding of government. A more democratic version of Rome. She laughed to herself. Constant but different. Only temptation using the Rabbi's sect gathered power, most followed one god, not many. The saints could be demi-gods, though.

Slavery… and Google... remained unique in the constant change. Her co-worker's jokes about her stoicism echoed through her head. The buying and selling of one of the same stock as yourself always didn't settle well with her. Still the beating of these forced into the situation due to misfortunate and birth twisted further her stomach. Here, it was at least illegal. She didn't know enough of the labor practices here thought.

Google, however, proved unparalleled an image would appear on the screen. Maybe the messengers on the roads could compare. The "desk top" image changed based on how one interaction with it. Lighter variations flooded the area and world around them. The warehouse 3 agent noticed it appearing palm sized narrow bricks or narrow metal chests with a pad that could be pushed down change the screen.

Another gust of wind break her mediations. At least the more fitted cloak, not it was called a winter jacket, worked. Fortuna must have a plan for by dropping her into the Furies' winds. An offering would not hurt. Her eyes focused on a gathered crowd. Separating them from a snow bathed vacant lot was a stream of yellow tape; posted in the lot stand men and women bundled up in puffy cloa… winter coats labeled with Detroit Police Department. Two emerged of them pulling a human sized black bag resting on it.

Her feet stopped, joining the faceless crowd. One of bundles walked out of deserted building… a clear plastic bag containing a bloodied gladius. Jupiter dam it. Not that. They got that. How long had it been until someone got killed? One watch? She needed to contain that temptation if possible. Three guards died due-

"Excuse me." A woman's voice broke thought.

The Warehouse 3 agent stepped aside. "Sorry."

A man followed, stopped for a moment, then walked again. "Mykes." He mutely called.

Her eyes settled on the scene, studying every detail from the number of police to possible entry points.

However when they gestured for bloodied blade after a whispered conversation and putting on purple gloves, her attention focused on them. "Mykes" dug in her bag for an object, then shielding it for view. She nodded at a hustled statement. Violet sparks flown from the shielded area. The warehouse. Viva smiled. Snaking her way through the crowd, all the words exited her ears.

Mykes and the man entered the snow coated building.

"So, one artifact down, and one scroll left." Pete stated as the cracked brick walls and shattered windows of the deserted factory surrounded them. Overlapping grafted decorated the walls. Some appears as random sketches while one appears an attempt to draw male anatomy. However, Myka focused on the sneakered foot prints from the half shut doorway.

They were looking for a Detective Madore, a thirty woman with a woolen jacket. Her eyes combed the puffy coat for a woolen coat. A woman yelled. "You're the Secret Service people right?"

The agents turned to see a woman dressed in a woolen coat, an ironed on badge resting on her shoulder. They nodded. She gestured for them to come over.

"She sounds happy." Pete stated

Myka laughed. "We are free labor and resources."

The detective pulled her hand. "Thank you for going."

"Agent Lattimer and Agent Bering." Pete greeted, taking his hand.

Detective Madore added. "The victim is Ryan Butler. Several non-violent felony. If you want this records, it will be at my office. We are currently going through this known associates. Any other questions?"

"We will ask if we need another either."

Crowded footprints pollinated the snowed over entry and no more footprints would be created on the cement floor. The police presence disturbed too much dirt on the ground. Pete walked straight the body but stepped over the blood. "I think Jack the Ripper paid this guy a visit." He winced.

Myka felt her stomach twist as her eye glanced at the bloodied corpse. Numerous stab wounds torn deeply into his abdomen, forming the pool of blood for the leaking iron liquid. Even the original color of his shirt was a mystery. She really wished she never saw that.

Alright they knew the gladius was an artifact. So, there was a fight and… this guy was killed. He could be one of the thieves. What was so special about the sword to cause… this. "Mykes!" Pete yelled. "I found anther… museum artifact."

Myka closed her eyes and stepped out the Jack the Ripper victim and further into the factory. Her partner stood over a scattered pile of bronze coins. In his hand, Pete's hand held a hundred dollar and one of the coins. He wrapped it in the bill. Instantly, the coins transformed in exact copies of the bills, down the marker strip. Two artifacts and still no scroll or warehouse 3 agent for what it was worth unwrapping it, the coin returned to their original form.

A row of boot prints imprinted in a snow drift. The warehouse agent traced the immediate tracks. There were reports of a snow storm two days ago. No snow rested in the impressions, so these could be from the thieves… or anyone rampage this deserted factory. These coins would have been taken by people passing through… she didn't know the original amount as well. She stopped ten feet short of the door.

Crimson snow bank leaned across the wall. "Pete. I think we find how the thieves broke in."

Myka pushed the rusted door open revealing a snow bank of likely a parking lot. The Warehouse agents scanned the gleaning white plain. Three sets footprints dotted blinding field, overlapping the pervious imprinted and filled tracks. She didn't like this uncertainty. However, there was possibly three thieves. "Pete. This looks like a sandal."

Her partner stated. "In this weather… the Spurius guy."

"Spurius Vergina Figulus." Myka corrected.

He figured out. "So the two modern thieves team up with the ancient thief."

"Now where could they being?" She answered. They would need shelter. With Butler dead, if one of his associates didn't pan out, they would be a blind search. Before returning to brick shelter, she took one final picture.

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Detective Madore's office turned to 7 by 7 side room populated by ply wood desk hosting a desktop and assorted photos and three file cabinets. "Okay. We have three leading suspects. Could you took two? It would free up more resources for the investigation."

Myka nodded. "Sure."

"Adam Green and Daniel Roy." The Detective handed her two files. "Thank you. These are the most likely involved."

Once inside the car, Myka flipped through the file. Pete asked "Who do we visit first?"

"Roy. He lives closer." His partner suggested. The Warehouse agent moved for his coffee, Myka shot him a look. Right, no coffee.

Something about the warehouse gave him vibes. "Mykes, could you drop me at the warehouse? I still have a vibe about it."

Myka nodded.

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Darkness depressed over the deserted warehouse. The limited jewels lighting the inky blanket failed to illuminate Viva as she pulled the door open. Breaking into building to search for clues, enduring extremes of weather, handling and securing potently fatal objects or clues to locate them. Warehouse constants. She just wished for back-up. A gust pierced her coat. She pulled the rusted door open while drawing her cloak tighter.

Retreating inside into sheltered cooler from the open cooler, she loosen her grasp. Back into work. Let's hope the police didn't take everything from these versed in temptations. Her eyes scanned the snow covered cement. Impressions and foot prints littered the floor. A patch of crimson snow laid near the door way. Its curves and indents match that of a body. A Wraith Blade's victim, no doubt. Which robber… or innocent bystander was it? Hopefully, their passageway was paid.

The warehouse 3 agent rubbed her hands together. How cold would they be without these gloves? She added her foot prints to the snow's growing collections after the next few minutes. No hints of the thieves' presences. Light cut through the shattered light portal. One of the horseless chariots… more of a cart really. A single man stepped out of the vehicle. She could handle that. Her eyes scanned the vast space, dotted with islands of rotting wooden barred rectangles.

Knock him out if he entered the room, otherwise left him alone. What if he had one of these gamma shaped weapons? Didn't change her plan. Her eyes studied the open space. It would not be honorable or safe with the furies. However if she got hurt… she didn't know the defenses against these weapons. What would she give for Achilles's sandals? She stepped backward the door. As it opened, she waited the hand to peak out before grabbing it and shutting the door on it.

As the door pulled against her, she took a breath. Suddenly taking her pressure off the door, she pulled the man into view before promptly kicking his knee under him and securing his other hand. The Warehouse 3 agent twisted them behind his back. "Ouch." The man's hands protested.

Pinning the protesting limbs, Viva begin to secure her hold. "You are assaulting a federal officer." He warned.

"My apologizes." She replied but continued. Federal officer, as in serving the central government.

The fighter rolled to his side, loosening her hold however an advance hovered at her leg. Their eyes locked. The hair dresser clip must have tumbled on the ground. She needed to put it in tighter next time. "Wait. Wait. I'm Pete Lattimer." He stopped struggling. "…of the Secret Service. Why did your hair do that fancy hair appear trick."

"You would not believe me." Still, she paused.

"Like you worked for the warehouse in Rome, Ancient Rome… right and there are artifacts that make one blinded by anger?"

"Yes. Once blood is spilled on it." The warehouse agent pad down his wrist and legs. "What number is it now?" A two gamma shaped weapons. She needed more.

Pete called. "Hey. Hey. If you just want to do that… I know most ladies do but…?" Viva contained a laugh.

"The number."

"13." Ten warehouses. 19 hundred years. Not bad. Still three was a low number.

"Tell me more."

The Warehouse 3 pulled the weapons from his frame before standing and releasing him. "Could you… you know."

"Thank you. Who taught you to do that?" The man asked as he dusted white flakes from his jacket. "Okay. What is your name?"

"Viva Gailia Habita Sedatio, Warehouse 3."

The Warehouse 13 studied her. "The blood artifact negating woman?"

She was more than that. Viva shrugged, then added. "Sedatio. My father taught me how to… Sorry for… my greeting."


End file.
